


Wings

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Christmas, First Time, Holidays, It's a Wonderful Life, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Depressed, Blair wishes he'd never been born so an angel with a prediliction for stealing movie plots to help, jumps in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much to Lady Dagger who so graciously allowed me to use a part of her wonderful story *Purple* in this story. Thank you again, and for those who'd love to read the original, please go to: http://archiveofourown.org/works/794381

 

**Wings by Alyjude**

 

**December 22, 1998**  
  
Blair Sandburg walked into Major Crimes to find Rhonda, Taggert and Connor decorating for the holidays.  
  
Small, artificial trees graced each desk and a larger version, as yet undecorated, stood in the corner next to the main doors. Red, green, silver or gold foil trimmed each desk and Christmas lights adorned the main door, Simon's door and the coffee station. At the moment they were busy "snowing" everything in sight and Connor was putting a small holiday village on the top of a filing cabinet.  
  
As Blair headed over to Jim's desk Rhonda caught sight of him, clapped her hands in glee and yelled over, "Blair! Great! You'll help us decorate the tree, won't you?" She waved her arm at the other detectives. "These scrooges won't lift a finger to help."  
  
"Yo," piped in Connor. "We need you, mate."  
  
Blair ducked his head and quickened his pace to the desk and once there dropped his stuff and reached for a file... any file.  
  
"Uh, guys, maybe later? Real busy here... "  
  
Heads swiveled and jaws dropped but before a chorus of "What?" could assault the young man, Connor stepped in.  
  
"That's okay Sandy. Understood." And she stared pointedly at each detective, daring them to say anything.  
  
Blair glanced up, knuckled some hair back behind his ear and gave Connor a weak smile of thanks, then quickly dropped his head back to the task at hand.  
  
As Blair went over the files, not really reading a word, he found himself wondering what was wrong with him. Christmas and Chanukah were just around the corner and he didn't feel a thing.  
  
The holiday spirit was definitely passing him by this year. Of course, the entire last month, starting with Thanksgiving, had been a month of Murphy's Law for the anthropologist. Everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong.  
  
It started with a phone call from Naomi. Originally he and Jim were planning on spending the Thanksgiving holiday with Jim's father and brother... a kind of Ellison family reunion. Then Naomi's call.  
  
"Honey, I'm flying in late on Wednesday and back out again Thursday evening, but we can have the whole day."  
  
Okay, he and Naomi hadn't had a holiday together in over five years... so plans changed. Jim would go to his dad's and Blair would stay with his mother.  
  
Except... there was another call.  
  
"Sweetie, I'm so sorry, just met up with some old friends, haven't seen them in years. They've invited me to Vermont. You don't mind, do you honey?"  
  
What could he say? "No, I don't mind, maybe next year, mom." But he did mind. And he didn't tell Jim. He'd felt all along that Jim should have the weekend with his relatives without Blair tagging along and besides the elder and younger Ellisons were, for some reason, very uncomfortable around Blair. So he just said that Naomi would be in later than originally planned and Jim should go have fun.  
  
So Blair spent the holiday alone. Completely. And it wouldn't have been so bad except that since moving in with Jim, there hadn't been a single holiday that they weren't together.  
  
And the 'good times' just kept coming.  
  
A paper for his Police Science class that didn't get turned in on time... small matter of a kidnapping. But this put him at the head of his Professor's shit list.  
  
Jim was dating.  
  
Between his new classes and his work with Jim, Blair had no life. Jim was _dating_.  
  
His beloved Volvo had finally died and Blair was forced to get around Cascade by bicycle. In the winter.  
  
 _Jim_ was dating.  
  
They'd just come off a case of escalating harassment and vandalism against the Mayor's son, Michael Goddard, a student at Rainier. In the beginning, when he and Jim had interviewed Goddard's ex-girlfriend, Clementine Taylor, Blair had _known_ she was the perp. He'd expressed his opinion and been thoroughly shot down. Cops could have hunches, but not Observers, it seemed.  
  
They had chosen instead to concentrate the investigation on one Robert Heywood, a rival of Goddard's. Until 'Darling Clementine' decided to up the ante by trying to kill Michael. Fortunately Blair was with young Goddard, trying to get more information on Ms. Taylor, when she showed up with gun in hand. Blair managed to get her attention and just as she was about to hand the gun over to him the family butler rushed in and 'Clemmie' panicked and started shooting. Blair had grabbed up a vase, a very expensive vase, and thrown it at the woman.  
  
He saved Goddard's life, got a bullet through his arm, a lecture from Jim and Simon _and_ a lecture from Mrs. Goddard about using her expensive vase to save her son's life! Ain't family grand?  
  
 _And_ Jim was dating.  
  
Any wonder the holiday mood was escaping Blair? But he wasn't feeling sorry for himself, exactly. Rather, it seemed to him that his life had finally caught up to him and that this was the life he was used to. The life he deserved.  
  
And Blair found himself wondering for the umpteenth time why he'd ever been born.

*****

  
  
**December 24, 1998**  
  
Jim Ellison pulled into a parking space in front of his home and was surprised to see the lights on in the loft. While it was 5:30 and Blair certainly should have been home, the detective still hadn't been expecting it. Sandburg had been using his winter break to play "catch up" with his school work and spending almost every available moment at the library.  
  
Since Blair had started back at the University, going after a Master's (and eventually a Doctorate) in Forensic Psychology, Jim had noticed a real difference in the younger man. His confidence, his normally assured nature, natural exuberance and good humor had seemed severely dampened. Jim knew that Blair was aware of the challenge he'd set for himself... the challenge of starting over, pursuing a new degree, a new doctorate. And Jim had given him his full support. But it had only been a few months and already the strain was evident. Jim was worried.  
  
And he didn't have a clue how to help. He was very afraid his friend was headed for a major crash. Jim pulled the keys from the ignition, locked up and headed in.  
  
As the elevator took him up to the third floor he concentrated his hearing on his partner. He could hear the muttering and the pacing. Not a good sign. Then just as Jim got to the door the phone started ringing and, as he entered, Blair was answering.  
  
"Hey, Simon... what? Oh, yeah, just a minute, he just walked in... here he is." Blair raised an eyebrow as he handed Jim the phone. Jim shrugged and turned his attention to Simon.  
  
"Yeah Simon... when? Right. We're on our way." He put the phone down and addressed Blair.  
  
"We've got a murder, Chief. You able to join me?"  
  
"Hey, no problem, let's go."  
  
Jim pulled a jacket off the hook and handed it to the other man, and they headed out.

*****

  
  
As Jim pulled into the circular driveway of the old but elegant Victorian house, representatives of the press immediately moved towards them, surrounding the truck. Jim and Blair got out and moved through the mass of bodies, cameras, microphones and lights as if they didn't exist. Jim looked straight ahead, ignoring the stupid questions and keeping Blair to his left and slightly behind him.  
  
They hurried up the steps leading to a large, open, ornate oak door. Jim flashed his badge and Blair his pass and the officer moved aside to grant them access.  
  
The first person they saw was Simon. He was standing in the foyer talking with a woman who appeared to be a servant. She was clearly frightened, gesturing frantically and talking rapidly in Spanish. When Simon spotted Jim he immediately turned the woman over to another officer.  
  
"Well, Merry Christmas, gentlemen. We have ourselves a grisly one here."  
  
He indicated the large room off to the left and the three men moved to the entrance of what appeared to be the livingroom.  
  
"The woman I was talking with is Maria Salgado, the housemaid. She found the body of her employer, Daniel Cummings - " He paused to let the name sink in and Blair didn't disappoint him.  
  
"Daniel Cummings? 'I can get it for you wholesale' Daniel Cummings?"  
  
"You got it, Sandburg. Ms. Salgado came home from last minute Christmas shopping and found him on the floor, next to the fireplace, his head bashed in."

*****

  
  
The livingroom was full as officers collected evidence, photographed the scene and dusted for prints. The body was already bagged and being wheeled out as the men entered. Jim started to put his senses to work as he moved into the livingroom. As he turned from Simon, he banged into Sandburg, pushing the man against the frame of the archway.  
  
"Jesus, Sandburg, watch yourself." Ellison snapped.  
  
"Sorry man, just tune everything down for a few minutes until you acclimatize yourself."  
  
The response to his cautionary words was a glare from steely blue eyes. Blair shrugged and let Jim and Simon walk past him, then followed as usual.  
  
Jim began to walk the room, his eyes moving constantly. Blair following behind, talking softly. In the far corner, next to the massive fireplace, Blair spotted Connor.  
  
She was looking down at the floor with a puzzled expression, then she seemed to stumble, but then Jim froze and Blair bumped into him.  
  
"Sandburg!" Jim's voice rose this time and several officers turned to look at the two men.  
  
Blair dropped his hands, which were resting on Jim's back and mumbled a, "Sorry".  
  
"Sandburg, maybe you'd better wait outside?"  
  
"Whaaat?"  
  
"Look, you're exhausted, you're just going to get in the way... go on, wait in the truck, catch a few winks." Then Jim turned back to what he'd been looking at earlier. With a supreme effort, Blair managed a mask of indifference as he turned to leave.  
  
As he headed out he noticed Connor waving him over. With a quick look at Jim, he moved to join the Aussie.  
  
"Sandy, he's in a bit of a tizzy, don't let him get you down." And she reached out and pulled him towards her. At the same time the photographer, who had been kneeling beside the fireplace, moved to get up. Connor quickly pulled Blair behind her, narrowly missing another collision. But as Blair stumbled back his foot came down on something and he heard the soft - very soft - crunch underfoot. He gave a little hop so he could get his shoe off whatever he'd stepped on, and looked down. He started to bend over - not to touch, just to look, when Simon bellowed, "SANDBURG, DON'T TOUCH!" Blair quickly stood back up, a flush creeping up his face.  
  
"Simon, I wasn't going... " He didn't finish as Jim grabbed his arm and pulled him past Simon.  
  
"Simon, I'll take care of this."  
  
"I just hope this wasn't evidence!"  
  
"Right, Simon."  
  
Jim pulled the younger man out of the living room, out of the foyer, out the front door, gave a look around and moved the two of them into the relative quiet and shelter of a large elm tree.  
  
"Sandburg, what's with you? You know better than to walk around like that. You _know_ better."  
  
"Look Jim, I didn't... " Again he wasn't allowed to finish as Jim cut in.  
  
"Sandburg, here - " and he held out his keys. "Take the truck. You need rest. I'll ride back with Simon and we'll talk later."  
  
Before Blair could respond, Jim was walking back to the house, completely unaware of the emotional damage he was leaving in his wake.  
  
Under normal circumstances Blair would have fought back. Told the detective what he could do with his keys. But these were not normal circumstances. The camel's back, already pretty well beaten down, had broken under the straw that Jim had just provided.  
  
Blair stood there for several minutes, the shock and hurt evident on his face. Slowly he made his way to the truck, got in and drove off.

*****

  
  
As Blair headed back to town he was alternating verbal abuse of himself with physical abuse by pounding the steering wheel with his hand. As he turned onto Masters Ave. a light snow began to fall. Just as Blair reached over to turn the wipers on a small child darted into the street.  
  
Blair had to pull the wheel sharply to the left to avoid the child, but with the slushy roads the truck hydroplaned and went shooting up a bank and through a fence, finally coming to rest on someone's lawn.   
  
Shaking, Blair got out of the truck. The little girl was nowhere to be seen. As he rested against the door he tasted blood. He brought his hand to his mouth. A cut lip. He let his hand travel further up and more blood. He also had a cut above his left eye. Blair knew he was lucky. And so was the little girl.  
  
He finally got up the nerve to look at the truck and immediately wished he hadn't.  
  
 _Oh, God, this is it. Jim's going to kill me._  
  
The front bumper was gone, the hood up and seriously crunched, with steam rising up much the way Blair's soul would once Jim got his hands on him. The windshield was cracked, the wipers completely gone and both headlights shattered.  
  
"Shit, I'm out of the loft now... If I'm lucky, I'll be allowed to leave on my own two feet as opposed to being carried out in a body bag."  
  
He let his hand run along the side of the truck and could feel the pain he knew Jim would experience.  
  
Suddenly he was spun around to face a very angry, 6'5, 250 pound man who was yelling at the top of his lungs and using Blair's chest to punctuate every word.  
  
"You God Damn Hippie Freak! Look what you've done to my fence, my yard. You'll pay for this... I'll sue!"  
  
The anthropologist tried to reason with the man, holding his hands up and trying to calm the angry man down, but nothing was working and Blair's own anger was begining to surface. When it made its way to the top, Blair grabbed his wallet, opened it and threw the whole thing at the idiot in front of him.  
  
"HERE YOU NEANDERTHAL, TAKE IT! MY LICENSE, MY MONEY, ALL OF IT, IT'S YOURS! EVER HEAR OF TRYING TO GET BLOOD FROM A TURNIP, YOU TURKEY?"  
  
And he stalked off, leaving behind the stunned 'neanderthal', the truck and his wallet.  
  
When he got to the corner he began to run. He needed to run. He didn't know why, just that running seemed the right thing to do. He ran up Madison, cut over to Fifth, then down Lacy. It was snowing harder now but Blair just kept running. He didn't stop until he reached O'Neil's Bridge. He came to a shuddering stop half way across. He leaned, exhausted, against a post and looked out over the creek. Blair didn't notice the cold or the tears of frustration coursing down his face, he just looked out at the dark churning water and cursed himself and his life.  
  
"God, please... " But his voice trailed off as he looked down again at the black water below him. Everything was so wrong now... He could help no one, contribute nothing. He stared, mesmerized. It would be so easy... No one would miss him... He was an obligation to some and a nuisance to others... So easy.

*****

  
  
"Marcus, get me Bodile, she's needed."  
  
"Yes, Mr. C."

*****

  
  
Bodile was sitting on a cloud, #9 actually, reading. She was a 'healthy' rubenesque woman who'd come to Heaven by the back door. She hadn't earned her wings yet, but she was certain she'd have the opportunity any day now, hence her current perusal of "The New Angel's Handbook and PPM".  
  
A disembodied voice interrupted her reading.  
  
"Bodile, Mr. C wants you. I think this is it. You go, girl."  
  
Bodile snapped the book shut, brought her arm and elbow down, hand into a fist and hissed,  
  
"YESSSS". She immediately thought of Mr. C and in the space of a celestial breath she was standing in front of the Head Angel.  
  
"Sir?  
  
"Ah, Bodile, it looks as though you're about to have your chance to earn those wings."  
  
Bodile began some rather substantial bouncing.  
  
"Bodile, calm down. This will be no cake walk, believe me. Someone is in desperate need of help and if you fail... well, the earthly world will suffer grave consequences."  
  
She ceased her bouncing and regarded the angel in front of her. Mr. C was a legend up here among the clouds, thanks to the rather unique method he'd used to get his wings.  
  
"I'm ready, sir. Who am I helping?"  
  
He parted the clouds to reveal a young man standing disconsolately at the rail of a bridge.  
  
"This man. His name is Blair Sandburg and he is a Shaman. He is under the protection of the Great Chopec Spirits."  
  
Bodile looked at the face. He had a strong-boned look, broad forehead, square jaw, long curly hair framing a handsome face. Yes, definitely handsome.  
  
"This is a shaman? But there is nothing of the shaman about him, sir. And he's young, not yet thirty."  
  
"You must learn to look deeper. Take a closer look."  
  
There it was. She saw it now. The gift. The wisdom and the power. But it was currently surpressed by great confusion, pain and something else... something she couldn't quite put her finger on...  
  
"Yes, I see it now. But there is so much in the way. The dear man is hurting. And there is something else... I don't have it yet... "  
  
With those words, Mr. C knew he'd assigned this delicate case to the right novitiate.  
  
"Good girl, you saw what few others have seen. Come, let me show you a bit about our young shaman."  
  
He guided Bodile to a large wall of clouds where with a wave of his hand, pictures began to move across the white billows. In Technicolor, of course.

*****

  
  
A beautiful young girl, red hair flying behind her as she ran across the grass, a tall, handsome young man running after her, finally catching her and they tumbled to the ground, kissing.  
  
"The young woman's name is Naomi. She is Blair's mother."  
  
"She's beautiful. And so in love. Is the young man Blair's father?"  
  
"Yes, Bodile. His name is Thomas Magnum."

*****

  
  
The same young woman, alone in a hotel room.  
  
She was sitting on the couch and there was a piece of rubber around her arm. She was pulling it tight with her teeth. In her other hand was a hypodermic.  
  
"Oh, no, please don't tell me... she's not?"  
  
Before Mr. C could answer, the door of the hotel opened and Blair's father stepped in... wearing a naval uniform.  
  
Bodile gasped as she saw the hurt and pain cross the man's face.  
  
"Naomi, you promised. You swore you were clean... Oh, God, Naomi, why?"  
  
"You're leaving, what do you care?" she spat out. "You're off to Vietnam, to kill... or be killed... Get out. Leave me alone."  
  
The scene faded.  
  
"What happened? Did he leave her?"  
  
"Yes, he did. He had no choice; he was in the navy and he was under orders."  
  
"But what happened later? Did they get together? Marry?"  
  
"I'm afraid not... their paths led elsewhere. But in the future? Who knows? And no, Blair does not know who his father is."  
  
"And Naomi?"  
  
"Look."

*****

  
  
Naomi, sitting in a Doctor's office, nervously twisting her hair in her fingers. A door behind her opened and the doctor entered and sat behind the desk.  
  
"Well, Naomi, the test confirms it. You're pregnant." The doctor sat back in his chair and stared dispassionately at the young girl. "You're just seventeen, three months pregnant and have a history of drug abuse. Do you want to keep the child?"  
  
She looked down at her stomach, ran her hand over it and answered firmly. "Yes. I will keep _him_. My baby."  
  
Bodile was proud of Naomi. The decision to keep the baby took courage.

*****

  
  
A hospital room. Naomi in bed, her red hair fanned out against the pillow. A nurse entered and handed Naomi a small bundle.  
  
"Here's your son. Have you decided on a name yet?"  
  
Naomi took the precious bundle and cradled it to her breast. She gently unwrapped the blanket revealing a sleeping baby.  
  
"Yes. His name is Blair Jacob Sandburg."  
  
As if recognizing his name, blue eyes opened and gazed up at his mother.  
  
She gasped in delight as tiny perfect fingers grasped hers. She nuzzled the soft brown curls.  
  
"So much hair already and his eyes, so beautiful."  
  
The nurse laughed, "Yes, he does have a lot of hair, but most babies have blue eyes at first."  
  
"Blair's will stay blue!"  
  
"Okay, Mrs. Sandburg, whatever you say."  
  
"And it's Miss Sandburg."  
  
"Sorry." And the clearly frustrated nurse hurried off.  
  
Naomi looked down at her son.  
  
"I promise you, Blair, I'll stay clean and I'll show you a wonderful world. We'll travel, see exotic places, meet stange and wonderful people. I promise you, I'll fill your life with so much you'll never miss not having a father!"  
  
And with those words she dropped a kiss on his nose.  
  
"Oh, Mr. C, that was... so beautiful. Tell me she stayed clean? And kept her promise?"  
  
"She never took anything stronger than aspirin from the day she suspected her pregnancy. And yes, she kept her promise. But keeping such promises... ah, that can be a two edged sword for a child."

*****

  
  
Naomi was in a small house, packing. A beautiful little boy of maybe three was standing at the door, watching.  
  
"Mama?"  
  
Naomi turned and, seeing her baby, rushed over and scooped him up into her arms. Holding him close, she began to rock him and croon.  
  
"It's okay baby, we're going to a new, wonderful place, a reservation. You'll love it Blair, I promise. You'll learn so much. You'll get to see real indians... won't you like that?"  
  
Blue eyes widened in wonder. "Indans, real indans?"  
  
"Yes, sweetheart, real *indans*", and she laughed at his pronunciation.  
  
She leaned down and picked up a purple bear.  
  
"Here darling, just for you. You can tell all your secrets to it and it will always be your friend. Okay, now?"  
  
Chubby little fingers reached out for the bear. "Dog. Name is Dog."  
  
"Dog it is. Ready for more adventures, my little chief?"  
  
Blair looks at his mommy and nodded solemnly,  
  
"Yes, I'm ready."  
  
Naomi reached down for the suitcase and keeping her son in her arms she started out the door. And the small boy looked back sadly and waved good bye.  
  
Bodile wished angels could cry. But they can't.  
  
"He was so brave."  
  
"Yes, and there were many more such moves. But Naomi did raise a smart, wise, kind man. His thirst for knowledge, his instincts, his generosity and his principles, all a direct result of Naomi's love. But of course, every coin has a flip side and the same life that gave him so much also gave him insecurities and fears."

*****

  
  
Blair was sitting crosslegged on a floor. He looked to be about ten years old. He was reading a book about a great explorer. Suddenly the book was ripped from his hands by a large, handsome man who was yelling at the boy.  
  
"YOU'RE USELESS, A COWARD... BOOKS WON'T HELP YOU IN LIFE... SPORTS. FISTS. THESE WILL ENSURE SUCCESS!"  
  
The man lifted the small boy and began to shake him. Naomi rushed in, pushed the big man and took her son, then continued to push the man right out of the house.  
  
"IF YOU EVER TRY TO COME HERE AGAIN, OR TO TOUCH MY BLAIR... "

*****

  
  
Twelve year old Blair, walking to school, three older boys on bicycles, following him, throwing things at him... yelling things, terrible things. About how he looked, about his mother.  
  
And Blair, finally home, in his room, unable to breathe... shaking. Opening his favorite book on Sir Richard Burton... More scenes, and the boy always internalizing his pain... outwardly reaching out to others, helping others...  
  
"Mr. C, I have to go down to him. Now."  
  
"Not yet. There is a meeting you must witness. A fateful meeting."

*****

  
  
Families playing in a park. A warm summer day. One boy of about eleven or so sitting alone, clearly not happy.  
  
A colorful van pulled into the park and several adults and children clambered out.  
  
Bodile immediately recognized Naomi and Blair.  
  
"Mr. C, who is the older boy?"  
  
"His name is James Ellison."  
  
Blair looked to be about four in this 'scene' and his energy and curiosity were very much in evidence as he began to explore on his own.  
  
Bodile noticed that the boy called James was watching Blair.  
  
James watched as the toddler ran off, unafraid, secure in his explorations. Realizing that the small child could get lost or, worse, have an accident, the older boy immediately went after the little one.  
  
Amazingly enough, he found him deep in the woods, engrossed in watching a butterfly. Under his arm was an obviously well-loved bear. Blair finally looked up, saw the older boy and beckoned him over.  
  
"Sssh. Isn't she beautiful?  
  
James crouched beside the child and agreed, then added, "Don't you think it's time you got back? Your mother's very worried."  
  
"Why?" The child's brow was wrinkled in concentration.  
  
"She doesn't know where you are. She thinks you're lost."  
  
"I'm here," he stated with undeniable logic. "Oh, look, she's flying, let's follow her."  
  
"No." James grabbed hold of the boy. "Stay here and talk with me."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Who's your friend?" James asked, tugging gently on the bear's ear.  
  
"Dog."  
  
"But it's a bear."  
  
"I wanted a dog, but we move too much."  
  
"I didn't know there were purple bears."  
  
"Silly." The boy reached over and patted James' cheek. "Bears can be all colors, just like people, but purple is best."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Cause it's hard to find and that makes it special. Mom says that rare things should be treasured. Didn't you know that?"  
  
"I haven't found a lot to treasure."  
  
"You're not looking in the right place. You have to look here," he said, tapping James' chest, just above the heart. "That's the only way to know if it's really special. Didn't your mom teach you that?"  
  
"I don't have a mother."  
  
The child tilted his head to the side as he thought about this, the breeze ruffling his hair and causing sunlit curls to dance around his hair.  
  
"Everybody has a mom."  
  
"She left me!"  
  
The boy took a step closer, standing between James' knees as he knelt in the meadow. He leaned in, forehead to forehead, and placing his hand on James' cheek, he whispered, "Sometimes mommies have to leave, but it doesn't mean she doesn't love you. My mom leaves me too, sometimes, but she always comes back and Dog stays with me while she's gone, so I don't forget that she loves me. Do you have a Dog?"  
  
"No, everything is gone, even the stuff she bought us."  
  
The boy straightened, frowned and offered, "You can have my Dog."  
  
"No, that's very nice, but he's yours. You should keep him."  
  
"You should have one. Mom can get me another one before she leaves again. I want you to have Dog, so you don't forget." Dog was pressed against James' chest and Blair picked up James' left hand and presseed it against the bear. "He's yours now. He'll take good care of you. Can I ride back on your shoulders?"  
  
There was something about the two boys... Bodile felt they were somehow fated... and there was something about James. He was so quickly and easily protective of Blair.  
  
"Oh, my, he's a Sentinel."  
  
"Yes, my dear. And also under the protection of the Great Chopec Spirits."  
  
"But... if Blair is a shaman and James Ellison is a Sentinel... ".  
  
"Watch, Bodile."  
  
And she did, but the pictures were coming faster now...

*****

  
  
The adult Blair in a hospital room, talking with a tall, very good looking man... Bodile recognized him as the adult James Ellison.  
  
She watched the growing relationship between the two men. Blair talking, guiding. Jim listening, protecting. She saw Jim's confusion at first, but also his strength, courage and his stubborness.  
  
She saw the men bond, in spite of their differences, or because of them. She saw Jim's life change as he let the younger man into it and she saw Blair steady and mature as the tall detective gave him the anchor, the home he so desperately needed. She watched their exploits in amazement, the give and take, the shared teaching and learning.  
  
Sentinel and Guide. Sentinel and Shaman Guide.  
  
"I'm not sure this is a project for a novitiate, Mr. C, this is important. Maybe you should be handling this one yourself."  
  
The angel chuckled. "Now, Bodile, if I didn't think you were the right one for this job... "  
  
"I've seen so much good in his life. What could have brought him to the bridge?"  
  
"Watch."

*****

  
  
Now the pictures were not so pleasant. Bodile saw hurt, anger, harsh words. An evil woman trying to kill Blair. Blair destroying his research, giving up his doctorate in Anthropology. His decision to try another field, Forensic Psychology, his excitement at being able to really help the Cascade Police Department, to help his friends. And Jim, excited as well, supportive and eager at the prospect of the new endeavor. But as the pictures continue to show, starting over isn't easy. Especially when you must balance real life with school. The more Blair tried to do, the more people he tried to please, the worse things became. He started forgetting things, appointments slid by him, papers weren't finished on time, professors who were already suspicious of him gave him no slack and some went out of their way to make it harder for him.  
  
Then the pictures showed the last month. And once again Bodile wished angels could cry. Because she had finally recognized the thing she hadn't been able to put her finger on earlier.  
  
Blair loved Jim. Was in love with him. And unless she was badly mistaken, James returned the feelings.  
  
Oh yes, she had her work cut out for her.

*****

  
  
Blair didn't know what he hoped the waters below him would reveal, but he found himself looking closer, leaning over the rail...  
  
"OH, DEAR!"  
  
Blair heard the yell, pulled away from the railing and looked wildly about him. There! To his left.  
  
A woman, standing on the railing! Ready to jump.  
  
"Wait!" he called out. Then he began to move slowly forward. She seemed amazingly calm for someone who planned to jump. She had short auburn hair and green eyes, looking calmly back at him.  
  
"Wait for what, young man?"  
  
"I... don't you... think you should come down? It's getting... kinda windy?"  
  
"You're probably right. This isn't the safest place to stand, it it?"  
  
"Uh, no, not really."  
  
Blair moved closer and was surprised when the woman held out her hand to him.  
  
"Give me a hand, Blair?"  
  
He took it and helped her down. It was only when she was safely beside him, smoothing her hair down, that he realized she'd called him by name.  
  
"Thank you, Blair. I knew you'd abandon your own plans if someone else was in trouble. You're a good man." The smile she directed at him was dazzling.  
  
"Wh... I... Uh?"  
  
She patted his cheek, hooked her arm through his and began to walk him off the bridge toward a well lit building ahead of them.  
  
"I know you're confused. So let me clarify. My name is Bodile and I'm an angel. Well, a novitiate really, I don't have my wings yet. But with your help... "  
  
Blair was stunned. He actually believed her.  
  
They arrived at the building and Bodile pushed him inside.  
  
It was a pub, badly lit, noisy and crowded. She guided him to a booth.  
  
Blair looked dazedly around him. "What is this place? I've been here dozens of times... this should be a school."  
  
"Blair, do you remember what you were thinking just before I spoke up?"  
  
"I... I'm not sure... yes, I guess... I was wishing that... I'd never been born."  
  
"Exactly." And she sat back looking immensly satisfied with herself. After all, if it had worked for Mr. C, it would work for her.  
  
"Exactly what?"  
  
"You've never been born. I gave you your wish."  
  
"Never... been... born?"  
  
A waiter appeared, forestalling any further talk.  
  
"What can I get for you two?"  
  
"I'd love some Lobster Thermidor, a Cesar salad and Floating Island for dessert."    
  
Both men looked at her as if she'd flipped. "Lady, this is a pub. We have soups, sandwiches, stews and chili. Now what do you want?"  
  
Blair answered for both of them, "Two bowls of chili and two coffees."  
  
"Oh, I really wanted that lobster... I haven't had it in over 45 years. Damn!"  
  
Outside the window, a bolt of lightening lit the sky and thunder rumbled. Bodile looked up.  
  
"Oops, sorry Big Guy. My error. Forgiven?"  
  
The lights in the pub flicked off, then back on.  
  
"Thank you, Sir."  
  
Blair just stared, mouth open.  
  
"So, what do you think about my granting your wish?"  
  
Blair blinked a couple of times and then, "I must have been born, I'm here aren't I?"  
  
"Well, of course you're here, couldn't do this otherwise. But you're not really here and you don't really exist because... you've never been born. Feel your lip, Blair."  
  
Blair did as he was told.  
  
No cut. No bruise. Nothing. He nervously checked his pockets, looking for Jim's keys. No keys. In fact, there was nothing in his pockets, no change, no pic comb, no odds and ends, no Swiss Army knife. Nothing. Empty. Suddenly he couldn't sit there another moment. He rose and literally ran from the pub.  
  
The snow. Where was the snow? And the street. It was different. Instead of a park on one side and the school on this side... there was an empty lot and this pub. He jerked when a hand landed on his shoulder. It was Bodile.  
  
"Okay, I haven't been born. I accept that. No loss, no big deal. But why is the street different? That makes no sense."  
  
"Blair, surely you realize that every life lived has an impact on the earthly world. _Every_ life lived. If one life is removed as if it never existed, the world is forever changed. Naturally, though, some people's absence would elicit greater changes than others."  
  
"But why would a street change just because _I'd_ never been born? I mean that's ludicrous."  
  
Before Bodile could answer, Blair suddenly turned tail and ran. All she could do was follow.  
  
Blair ran until he came to the street where he'd left the truck. He was relieved to see this area unchanged. Except... frightened, he looked around, to his left, his right... behind him. Where? He put his hand up to his head. Jim's truck. It was gone. Blair _knew_ this was the house. Although... no, it _was_ the house, just different? More run down? The fence. Intact! But where was Jim's truck?  
  
"Blair, honey? Are you okay?"  
  
Blair whirled to face the angel.  
  
"Jim's truck! Where is Jim's truck?"  
  
"Blair, if you've never been born than you couldn't have taken someone's vehicle, could you?"  
  
"I... I... Noooo, but...?"  
  
"No Blair. No truck. No accident. See?"  
  
"I need to go home. Now." And he began to walk.  
  
Eventually he was able to hail a cab. They both climbed in and Blair told the driver to take them to 852 Prospect.  
  
"Sorry buddy, but Prospect only goes to the 700 block."  
  
"Look, just drive. I live there, I know my own address."  
  
"Okay, maybe I'm wrong."  
  
Twenty minutes later he proved he wasn't. Prospect indeed ended at the 700 block.  
  
Blair turned worried eyes to Bodile.  
  
"How is this possible? Why would an entire block of a street be gone just because I wasn't born?"  
  
Bodile took his hand and held tight.  
  
"Honey, much of Cascade is different. Whole blocks have changed or gone, buildings, landmarks, parks... gone."  
  
"No. Not possible... not because of one person. I can't accept that. I remember Naomi telling me... " Blair stopped as he thought of his mother.  
  
"Naomi. My mother. Where is she? If she didn't have me, who did she have?"  
  
"Naomi had no children, Blair. And because she had no child she continued her drug use and she died of an overdose at eighteen."  
  
"You're lying! Naomi is... was... she would never, never... please, tell me you're lying?"  
  
"An angel can't lie. You were the reason she cleaned herself up, changed her life. But without you? She had no reason to change."  
  
Blair wiped a hand across his face. He wanted to cry. Needed to cry. Couldn't cry. He needed something. Something familiar. Something he could hold onto. Some _one_ he could hold onto.  
  
"The Police Station. I have to go to the police station."  
  
Blair leaned forward and instructed the cabbie to take him to the Cascade Police Department. Fifteen minutes later Blair was trying to pay off a very angry cab driver. But of course, he had no money. He looked at Bodile who just shrugged.  
  
"Okay, look, just wait here a moment, I have friends inside, I'll get the money from them."  
  
"Look kid, this has been fun, but if you think I'm gonna let you... "  
  
At that moment Blair spotted Rafe.  
  
"Wait! There's one of my friends now, hold on."  
  
Blair bounded over to Rafe.  
  
"Rafe. Thank god you're here. Look can I borrow five bucks? I seem to have... lost my wallet. You know I'm good for it."  
  
"I don't know who you think you are kid, but trying to scam a police officer is not a good idea."  
  
"Rafe, it's me, Blair? Jim's partner? Come on, man, no jokes."  
  
"Look, I don't know you from Adam, now pay the nice man or... "  
  
"I don't believe this... look - " but before he could finish the cab took off!  
  
"I guess your lady friend took care of the bill. Now if you'll excuse me?"  
  
That was when Blair noticed the uniform. Rafe was wearing a uniform.  
  
"Wait. Can I ask you something?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you know... a Taggert? A Joel Taggert?"  
  
"I didn't know him personally, but yeah, I knew of him."  
  
Blair looked intently at the officer. "You didn't know him?"  
  
"No. Captain Taggert died before I graduated from the academy."  
  
"He died? Oh, My God. How?"  
  
"He killed himself. Two years ago."  
  
"No-o-o-o-o."  
  
Blair felt his knees give way and only Bodile's strong arm kept him upright.  
  
"I take it you knew Captain Taggert?"  
  
Numb with shock, Blair could only nod.  
  
"Sorry I had to be the one to give you the news." With that, Rafe began to move off.  
  
"Wait! There's someone else... Do you know a Captain Simon Banks?"  
  
Rafe frowned. "Wait, yeah, he used to head up Major Crimes. He retired back in... '96, I think. I remember now, his son died, right here at headquarters... there was a seige. Several people died, his son among them. He broke down, couldn't handle it. Started drinking real heavy... Finally took enforced retirement."  
  
Blair was shocked. Daryl dead? Simon retired?  
  
Drinking? And Joel, a suicide? None of this was possible. Not these people. He was so intent on his thoughts he didn't notice Rafe leaving.  
  
"Blair?" Bodile gently took Blair into her arms.  
  
"How is this possible? Bodile, what happened? Why would Joel kill himself?"  
  
"He lost his nerve. Couldn't function after the seige, watching Daryl die, and the others. He couldn't do his job... and there was no Blair to help him through it. And no Jim and Blair to stop Kincaid. Or Veronica Sarris either. She's the reason for the Cascade you've seen tonight. She destroyed one third of the city before they brought her down. And Garret Kincaid was successful in getting his men. And he killed six officers and Daryl in the process. Jim wasn't there to stop any of it. Because you weren't there."  
  
"Jim," Blair whispered. "Jim. Why couldn't he stop them, why wasn't he there? This is Jim Ellison we're talking about. A great detective, a good man, a Sentinel for God's sake!"  
  
"A Sentinel with no guide. His guide was never born."  
  
Blair stood there shaking his head in denial. "No. No. Not possible. There would have been someone else, someone else to help him... he didn't need me. Just someone."  
  
"Not _some_ one, not _any_ one. You. He needed you. Only one guide. One shaman. You. But you were never born."  
  
The dread began to creep over him. He was afraid. Afraid to ask. But he had to. "Where is he, Bodile? Tell me he isn't dead. Jim can't be dead. Please Bodile... where is he?"  
  
"Why must you know? Why is it so important to you? Isn't it enough to know he isn't a sentinel now?"  
  
"No. I need... more. To know more. To see him. Is he okay? Happy? Married?"  
  
"Why?" Bodile prodded.  
  
Blair lowered his head. Then raised it up to her, his eyes bright with unshed tears, "I love him, Bodile. I love him. You can't know. You can't know all that he is, all that he's accomplished. How he uses his senses, the courage it took... He could have denied them, his life would have been so much easier... but not him, not James Ellison. Do you have any idea how hard life is for him? Just the daily living for a Sentinel? The sounds? Lights? Materials, colognes, detergents, soaps, food, flavors? The things that could happen to him? How much more susceptible he is to pain? To the effects of illness?"  
  
"So how _does_ he handle all those things?"  
  
"He just does. He just... does."  
  
"How, Blair?"  
  
"I... I suppose I help him. A little."  
  
"A little? Only a little? If you helped anyone only a little would Naomi be dead now? Joel? Daryl? Simon in forced retirement? You were Naomi's strength. Jim's anchor. Joel, Daryl and Simon's friend. You touched all of them, Blair. And without you... "  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"Take my hand Blair." When he did, she added,  
  
"We're not traveling by conventional means, so close your eyes." A moment later: "You can open them now."  
  
Blair did as instructed. They were standing in front of Englewood Hospital.  
  
"He's on the eighth floor."  
  
"That's the... "  
  
"The Psychiatric ward. Yes. He's been there since March of 1996. Do you still want to see him?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Fine. Hold on."

*****

  
  
The room was cold. Only one lamp offered any light, any comfort. In the corner, Blair could see a man in a wheelchair. The man was hunched over, head hanging listlessly, hands lying still on his legs. Blair walked over and knelt down in front of the chair.  
  
"Jim? It's me. Blair. Can you hear me?"  
  
There was no response. He must be in a major zone. That was the only explanation. Could it last this long? And Jim remain alive? Or had the senses, the inability to control them, send him over the edge? This was his fault.  
  
"Jim, please, look at me." The man didn't even blink. _I've got to get him out of here. I can bring him out of this zone, but not here._ "Jim, I'm taking you out of here. We're going home."  
  
Blair knew he could not help Jim here in this room, he had to get him out. He looked around and saw a blue robe on the edge of the bed. He grabbed it and began to wrap it around the older man.  
  
"It's okay, Jim, I'm gonna get you out of here. You'll be fine, I promise."  
  
As soon as the robe was tucked in, Blair got behind the chair and pushed toward the door. He positioned himself and the chair to manuever the door open, peeked out and was assured that no one was around to stop him.  
  
He quickly pushed Jim out into the hall.  
  
He saw security doors just ahead and inwardly moaned. And there was an orderly just approaching on the other side. Which gave Blair an idea.  
  
And where was an angel when you needed her anyway?  
  
Blair pulled himself and the chair into the corner next to the doors and then he ducked down below the windows. The orderly inserted a card, punched in some numbers and the doors wooshed inward. Blair grabbed the door nearest him while at the same time kicking out at the orderly. The man went back against the wall and this gave Blair time to push Jim through the doors. And the race was on. Blair pushed down the hall towards a set of elevators as the orderly behind him righted himself and hit an alarm then took chase.  
  
As Blair neared the elevators they opened and out poured several security officers. The orderly was coming up fast behind him and security officers in front. And a nurse was calling the police. Blair banked sharply to his left and headed down another corridor, silently willing Bodile to appear. Going around another corner, Blair ran smack into two security guards. One of them grabbed Jim's chair and a brief struggle ensued. Brief, because the orderly had come up behind Sandburg and now wrapped his arms around the shorter man and yanked him away from the chair.  
  
Blair immediately began kicking and fighting to free himself as he watched a nurse checking Jim and begin to wheel him away from Blair.  
  
"NO! LEAVE HIM ALONE! I CAN HELP HIM!" Blair screamed. But all he could now see was Jim's retreating back. Then police were there and Blair saw handcuffs and knew he had to get out of there. Now. He had to get back to the bridge. It was the only way to help Jim. He let his body go limp and when the man relaxed his hold, Blair kicked back and struck a very private part of the man's anatomy. The man screamed and let go. As soon as Blair's feet hit ground he was running. Down stairs, throught corridors, down halls, the police and security close on his heels.  
  
He made it to the lobby and froze. Uniforms. Coming in the front door.  
  
"Bodile, I could use a little help here. A little abnormal travel?" Nothing. His head jerked right. Left. The ER! To his left. He turned and ran for the ER doors.  
  
He pushed his way through them and ahead he could see the doors opening to the outside. An ambulance was backed up to them, with EMT's offloading a gurney. He could make it. He _would_ make it. Had to make it. Because he had to find Bodile, had to be born... it was the only way to make things right, to save Jim.  
  
"Jim," he almost sobbed the name. In that chair. His eyes so vacant. No! It wouldn't happen. _It didn't happen._  
  
He was outside, running for his life. He could hear sirens, yells, but he just dug in deeper, ran harder, ran faster, one word urging him on... _Jimjimjimjimjim_...

*****

  
  
He could see the bridge. If he could just get to it. But the sirens were closer now... Please? Bodile? "Where are you?"  
  
He made it. His chest was heaving, tears running down his cheeks... he hit the railing and he could see... nothing. No one. Bodile was no where to be seen. And the sirens so close now.  
  
"God, please... listen... I didn't mean it. I want my life back, please... let me be born," He was crying openly now, his hands clasped in prayer as he leaned against the railing. "Jim, I love you. I'm so sorry... please, please, Bodile, I understand, I really do... Every life lived... "  
  
Nothing happened. He didn't know what else to do. What to expect. He sighed and rested his head against the pole. It felt good, cool. He felt something soft and cold. He looked up.  
  
It was snowing.  
  
A light, gentle, beautiful snow. And it was... quiet. No sirens. Had they given up? He turned his head and looked down the bridge. Lights. He saw red blinking lights. For a moment he panicked. Then realized they were Christmas lights! Christmas lights?  
  
But... slowly Blair touched his lip. His eyebrow. "Ouch!" And he had a headache! The cut on his lip, above his eye... YES! He started jumping up and down... he remembered Jim's keys... he fumbled in his pockets, numb fingers found them. Right where he'd put them! He pulled them out and kissed them.  
  
"I'm back! I'm back... " he began shouting.  
  
His joy was shortlived. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another set of blinking red lights and they were moving toward him. Blair began to back away as the lights, now attached to a car, crept closer. "Nonono, Jim, I'm so sorry, I tried... Oh, God."  
  
The car stopped. A door opened, the passenger door, and a tall man stepped out. "Blair?"  
  
Jim? Was that... was it... Jim?  
  
The man came closer, one hand held out. "Chief, it's me. Jim. Talk to me buddy, you okay?"  
  
"Jim? Is it really you? Are you... okay?"  
  
"Me? Hey, I'm not the one who saved a little girl's life by plowing into a fence. Come on, Blair, let me check you out."  
  
It was Jim. His Jim. And he was fine. At that moment Blair wanted nothing more than to grab the big man and hold him... for about three days. Oh, and kiss him into unconsciousness. And why not? No reason he could think of at the moment. None at all. So he ran toward the older man and was surprised to see arms opening to receive him. He went straight in, wrapping his arms around the warm solid body and feeling arms closing around him in return. The two men stood there, under the falling snow, wrapped tightly in each other's arms. Eventually Blair had to see his sentinel's face so he pulled back and heard Jim's groan of loss. Blair looked up into the face he knew so well, loved so deeply and reached up, pulled the head down and brought his lips to Jim's.  
  
The first kiss was chaste. Just lips, gently touching. Blair wanted more... much more, but he needed to be sure. He needed to see Jim's eyes. It turned out not to be necessary at all as Jim's hand came up to cup the back of Blair's head and Jim's mouth descended again, this time lips open and inviting. Blair dove in with his customary enthusiasm, energy and curiosity.  
  
"Ah, gentlemen?"  
  
Reluctantly Blair pulled away and tilted his head past Jim's body to see Simon walking towards them.  
  
"Simon? You're okay too? And Daryl? And Joel?"  
  
"I'm fine, Daryl's fine, Joel's fine, everyone is fine... How are _you_?"  
  
Jim turned, keeping Blair well within the circle of his arm. "Trust me Simon, Blair is fine, perfect in fact."  
  
"Yeah, I can see that. Let's get him back to the station. Everyone's worried sick about him."  
  
"Uh, guys, I'm right here. And why is everyone worried about me?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know... grisly murder, we find the truck, smashed... blood in the snow... no sign of you anywhere... an angry, 250 pound gorilla yelling... Jim was sure the guy had killed you. I had to physically restrain him. We've been driving all over the city... put an ABP out on you. But other than that?"  
  
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean... "  
  
Jim interrupted, "No Blair, we're sorry. What happened back at the Cummings place, taking you outside... no excuse."  
  
"Jim! The murder?"  
  
"Relax, the perp's in jail. We got a confession, out of the clear blue sky... It was Cummings' business partner. He arrived a few minutes after you left and confessed the whole thing! Must have had something to do with the holiday, or the full moon!"  
  
"So what _did_ I step on?"  
  
Both men suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Jim began to move to Simon's car.  
  
"I'll fill you in on everything, but let's get you to the car, inside where it's warm."  
  
Blair climbed into the back seat and wasn't at all surprised to find Jim climbing in with him. Once settled, Jim put his arm around Blair.  
  
Simon got the car turned around and they headed back to the city.  
  
"So. Did I destroy evidence?"  
  
"Uh, no, not exactly."  
  
"Not exactly?"  
  
"It seems Connor lost a contact lens. She tried to interrupt, to tell us, but I reacted so quickly, got you out of the house so fast... "  
  
Blair processed this information.  
  
"You mean, I stepped on a contact lens?"  
  
"Ah, well, yes."  
  
Neither Jim nor Simon were prepared for Blair's reaction. He erupted in laughter. Loud laughter. And he laughed long and hard until tears streamed down his face.  
  
"You guys... just don't... know... " Blair finally calmed down, wiped his eyes and decided to kiss Jim again.  
  
He latched on tight and all the desperation of the day was poured into the kiss. Jim responded in kind, pouring all the worry, fear and longing that he been storing so long. Simon just drove.  
  
They finally parted and Blair asked, "So, you don't seem surprised by this unexpected turn of events, Jim."  
  
"Nope. I promised myself tonight that when I found you, if I... if you were all right... that I'd take you into my arms, kiss you senseless and tell you how much I love you."  
  
"Well, two out of three ain't bad."  
  
One eyebrow shot up and then Jim realized what Blair meant. The detective smiled and pulled Blair back into his arms.  
  
"I love you, Blair Sandburg."  
  
"I love you, James Ellison. More than you'll ever know."

*****

  
  
**Epilogue**  
  
"You did a fine job, Bodile. Even if you did steal from Frank Capra's movie."  
  
"Thank you, sir. And you know, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."  
  
"Well, then, I'm flattered. You really earned your wings. I'm proud of you."  
  
Bodile smiled but it was a bittersweet smile. And it didn't escape Mr. C's notice.  
  
"Bodile? What's wrong?"  
  
"I just wish I could have said good-bye to him, you know?"  
  
"You can, Bodile, you can."

*****

  
  
As Jim, Simon and Blair walked into Major Crimes they were immediately engulfed by the other detectives. There was clapping and cheering and Blair caught snatches of, "How?" "Where was he?" "Is he all right?" "Thank God, Hairboy."  
  
Rhonda turned on the radio and Christmas music filled the bullpen as Blair's back was being slapped, patted and pummeled by everyone who just had to touch "the kid" to ensure that he was really there. He saw Rafe beaming, Henri laughing, Joel seemed to have tears in his eyes as he gave Blair a big bear hug. Connor was smiling and handing him a glass of eggnog and Jim? Jim never left his side. He smiled. He answered questions, but he kept one arm tightly around his guide. Every few seconds their eyes would meet and they would both smile, a smile of promise, a smile of the future.  
  
"Blair, this was just delivered for you." Rhonda handed him a small, gaily wrapped box. He looked at her, puzzled.  
  
"For me? I wonder who? Maybe Naomi?"  
  
"Open it, Chief. It's obviously a Christmas present. Go on, " he urged, "open it."  
  
Blair tore the paper off to reveal a small, beautifully hand carved antique mahogany box. The carvings were of angels. Blair carefully opened the lid. Nestled inside was a Christmas ball ornament. Hand painted. The painting was of a woman, sitting on a cloud. She had auburn hair, dazzling green eyes and one leg dangled off the edge of the cloud. And attached to her back was a pair of delicate, lacy wings. On the other side was written a message. It read:  
  
 _Blair, Thank you and take care of him.  
  
Bodile  
  
PS: "A life lived."_  
  
"Blair, who's Bodile?"  
  
"An angel, Jim. Just an angel."  
  
Jim looked worried, but Blair was smiling serenely, and he took comfort from that.  
  
"You going to tell me about her?"  
  
"Yes, Jim, I'll tell you. Later, okay?"  
  
Jim nodded, then pointed to the message. "What does 'a life lived' mean?"  
  
"Any life lived has an impact on the world. And if that life is suddenly unlived, the world changes."  
  
Jim gazed into the incredible eyes of the man he loved and felt a fear so strong he had to express it.  
  
"God, Blair, I don't even want to think about life without you in it. But I know that without me, you'd probably be Dr... " This time it was Blair who interrupted Jim by slapping his hand over the bigger man's mouth.  
  
"Jim, Do not go there. Trust me on this, do _not_ go there."  
  
"But... "  
  
"No. Okay? I'm here, you're here, we're together, it's Christmas Eve and when we get home I plan to unwrap you within an inch of your life. Got that?"  
  
Jim's answering smile said it all.  
  
Just then there was a tinkling sound and everyone turned to look at the tree. One of the ornaments, a small bell, was being jostled. Everyone looked at each other... Another angel just got their wings... after all, they'd all seen, "It's A Wonderful Life."  
  
Blair looked heavenward, smiled, and said a silent thank you to the newest angel.

 

finis

 


End file.
